Here Be Dragons
by rubyliss
Summary: A year after reuniting with Kurt Hummel in New York, Dave Karofsky still struggles with his desire to be more than friends and his fear that the relationship he wants is abnormal. Very long one shot. COMPLETE.


**Title:** Here Be Dragons

**By:** Rubylis

**Rating:** Mature

**Pairing: **Kurtofsky

**Summary (written for this prompt from the Kurtofsky prompt list): **Warnings: dubcon. Ratings: NC-17; Dave is ashamed he's still having fantasies about doing things to Kurt after all these years. He's found ways to sublimate it (his partner looks like Kurt, or he gets male hookers who remind him of him where he can be forceful), but finally his therapist gets him to admit that he needs to contact Kurt, face him and deal with it. Happy endings optional, but would be nice.

**Slightly AU:** Adam and Kurt have recently broken up (amicable) and Adam has moved back to England. After his suicide attempt, David was sent to an in-patient treatment facility in upstate New York. He and Kurt reunited in New York City a year ago and have been friends ever since.

**Warnings: **Language, Sex, Dub Con, Light Bondage

**Note:** **Italics indicate flashback.**

**Very special thank you to my lovely beta LouiseStrange and to DaughterofScotland, Spookybibi and AggressiveEyeRolling for their help and encouragement.**

**"**Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love."-Ranier Maria Rilke

**~:~**

_Dave tightened his grip on Kurt's hips. Bruises blossomed against the pale skin and fuck if that didn't make the former jock drive harder against his partner, into him, pinning him fast against the mattress. Possessively riding him until Kurt whimpered as he fisted the sheets. Dave's lips fastened on Kurt's neck, sucking a dark mark on the bared skin there as well. Then moved down to claim the curve of his shoulder. _

_Kurt cried out._

_Dave felt smugly satisfied. Blaine had never desired Kurt like he did. Blaine had never drawn these responses from Kurt. Blaine wasn't here fucking Kurt, taking him apart with each stroke, palm slick with pre-cum as Kurt's cock jerked in his hand. _

**~:~**

"Maybe I'm a monster." David spoke quietly, his voice barely carrying above the a/c in Dr. Kahlo's office. "Maybe I can't be fixed." His brow furrowed as he picked absentmindedly at a hangnail on his thumb. "Maybe…maybe there's something about me that's just fucked up and always will be."

"So what becomes of you then?"

Dave shrugged. "Monsters should be killed."

Dr. Kahlo leaned back in his chair, studying his young client as he let the Slinky in his hands fall from one palm to the other. "Always?"

"Perseus beheaded the Gorgon. St. Michael slayed the dragon. Good triumphs over evil, right?"

"Do you think you're evil?"

Dave blinked quickly. "I'm trying not to be." His hands curled into fists and he wiped his eyes on his sleeve. "I'm trying so fucking hard not to be."

"So, if you're a monster and you believe monsters should be killed, where does that leave you, David?"

Dave shot Dr. Kahlo a furtive, pleading look. "I don't wanna die."

"Not what I asked."

Again, Dave snuffled against the sleeve of his shirt. "I don't wanna kill myself."

"Is that what you think you should do?"

"…sometimes…"

"Because you're evil?"

Dave nodded. "The stuff I think about doing with Kurt, doing to him…"

"But you haven't done them."

"Not to Kurt."

"I see." Dr. Kahlo understood then what had brought Dave to him this time. "Why don't you tell me what happened and we'll go from there?"

"I met someone." Dave licked his lips, he couldn't bring himself to tell Dr. Kahlo the whole truth, that he'd been seeing a call boy for the last three months. "The last time, I got a little rough."

**~:~**

_Brody gave Dave two minutes to recover before sliding out from under him, rolling off the bed and going to the bathroom to clean up. "You owe me another twenty."_

_Dave blinked, struggling to focus. He was always disoriented after a session with Brody and, if he were honest with himself, always disappointed to realize that the man he had been with wasn't Kurt. He scrubbed a palm over his face. "That's not what we agreed on."_

_Smirking, Brody pointed to the dark, finger sized marks on his hips. "I told you upfront, any rough stuff costs extra." He zipped up his pants. "Pay up, stud." _

_Dave scowled. "Don't call me that." He grabbed his jeans from the floor, fished out two tens from the pocket and laid them on the table. _

_Brody shoved the money into his pants then shrugged into his shirt. "So, who's Kurt?"_

_"We said no names."_

_"Fine by me. But you're the one that keeps moaning his name. Whoever he is, he must have done a real number on you." He licked his lips, greedy for another twenty. "You know, there's a guy at NYADA named Kurt. Real priss." Brody laughed. "I might be able to hook you up if you're interested."_

_Dave's stomach roiled at the thought of Kurt ever finding out he paid someone for sex and why. He grabbed Brody up by his shirt and slammed him into the wall. "What fuckin' part of 'no names' do you not get?" _

_Brody held his hands palm up in a placating gesture of surrender. It wasn't like he didn't already know his client's full name from the label on the mail box. A fact Dave Karofsky seemed to have forgotten. _

_A fact that Brody fully intended to throw in that smug little Hummel's face the next time they ran into each other. _

_**~:~**_

Adam's hat. Kurt sighed as he picked it up. Five weeks since he had moved back to England and still Kurt was finding little reminders of his ex-boyfriend. He couldn't help stroking the hat against his cheek and breathing in Adam's scent. At least their break up had been more amicable and definite than how his relationship with Blaine had ended. Kurt rolled his eyes. Blaine had been disgustingly apparent in his attempt to use Adam's departure as a chance to reunite with Kurt. _As if_, Kurt thought, irritated. Fortunately, he still had Dave Karofsky to socialize with. And David's presence proved an effective deterrent to Blaine's misguided pursuit.

Kurt fingered the hat longingly, then checked the time, wondering if he could squeeze in a quick jerk off session. Unfortunately, Isabelle was waiting and he could just meet her on time if he left now. She had been adamant that if he wanted his surprise, he absolutely could not be late. Kurt threw on a scarf, sent a quick text to David confirming they were still on for a late lunch then grabbed his satchel and left.

Kurt arrived at the address Isabelle had texted, flushed and breathless. His excitement increased when he recognized the façade of Babylon_,_ a chic, out of the way restaurant quickly earning a reputation for its nouvelle cuisine. He found Isabelle outside deep in an animated conversation on her phone. She waved him over. Kurt spent the next ten minutes impatiently rocking on his heels and trying not to look obnoxiously eager. _Babylon! _He was privately debating the gaucheness of posting a quick snapshot to Instagram when Isabelle finished her call.

"Oh, thank God, Kurt!" She smiled warmly. "You're such a lifesaver!" She walked into the coffee shop two doors down and Kurt, puzzled, followed. Isabelle glanced behind. Satisfied that she hadn't lost him, she went to the counter and, notepad in hand, began ordering. Coffees. Lattes. And one chai tea, skim milk. Kurt's heart sank. Isabelle kept chattering even as the drinks arrived and she carefully handed them over to Kurt. "There was no way I could manage all these by myself."

Numbly, Kurt nodded, once again relegated to the thankless job of being a intern. Just once he'd like to experience one of the fabled perks of working at Vogue. And, really, would one quick lunch at Babylon have been so outrageous to hope for? He followed Isabelle outside. "-the caterer not showing up for a photo shoot. Can you imagine?"

_Photo shoot? _Kurt's ears and spirits perked up. "You're taking me to a photo shoot?"

"You really haven't been listening have you?" Isabelle teased. "Technically, it's a concept photo shoot. If it goes over well at the next pitch meeting, we'll reshoot with our own models."

Kurt wanted to ask who they were using for models for this shoot but stopped when he saw where Isabelle was headed. Instead of the entrance to Babylon, she walked over to a side basement entrance of someplace called The Hanging Gardens. Curious, Kurt navigated the steep stairs as quickly as he dared while balancing the coffees. Once inside, he couldn't help the noise he made.

Apparently, The Hanging Gardens was a well-equipped, high end bondage club.

Kurt was equally appalled and impressed. The furnishings were exquisite. Luxurious, button tufted leather seating in a rich oxblood leather. Polished brass fixtures. Even the chains mounted on the walls and the trussing poles scattered here and there along the walls seemed quite sturdy. He walked down thickly carpeted stairs to the dark wood of the main floor. Towards the back of the room was a stage and Kurt relaxed when he saw a familiar set up of lights and photography equipment.

"Coffee's here!" Isabelle called out cheerfully.

Kurt took his cue from her. He plastered on a nervous smile as he set the drinks down then moved aside. Most of the crew crowded in, eager for a much needed jolt of caffeine. But, Kurt noticed, there were three men off to the side who seemed to be arguing.

"Not gonna happen!"

Kurt flinched at the raised voice. Before he knew it, Isabelle had his elbow and was steering him towards the fighting. Exactly where he did not want to be at the moment. "Don't worry," she reassured him, "tempers always flare at a photo shoot."

"Pretty sure a dead model layout won't be a helluva selling point. Asshole."

The last was muttered under his breath and probably not meant to be heard but still, Kurt recognized the voice. _David._ Surprised and concerned, he looked over to see David squared off against another man. Kurt thought he recognized him from the one pitch meeting he had been allowed to attend but couldn't recall his name. The third man, Kurt immediately recognized as Gus, a freelance photographer Isabelle adored.

"Marcel," Isabelle calmly addressed the first man, providing Kurt with the name he couldn't remember, "how is everything?"

"Amateurs, Isabelle." Marcel, ever inclined to theatrics, threw his hands up in the air dramatically, "You expect me to work with _amateurs_ who have no eye for composition."

Dave's eyes darkened with anger. "Yeah, real sorry that being safe isn't artsy enough for you."

Isabelle turned to face Dave, taking in his crossed arms, set jaw and stony expression. "I'm sorry, you are-?"

Quickly, Kurt laid a hand on David's arm before he could speak. He knew all too well how tactless his friend could be when he was worked up. David looked over, surprised at Kurt's touch, as if he just now realized he was there. Kurt held his gaze for a moment, silently warning him to behave. "David, this is my boss, Isabelle Wright. Isabelle, this is David Karofsky, a friend of mine from Lima."

"He's the rigger for the shoot." Gus spoke up.

"Which means your job is-?" Isabelle prodded.

"I'm tying the rope on the models."

"Not tying the rope is more like it." Marcel corrected pointedly.

"Either way, " Gus interrupted, "without a model, it's a moot point."

"Now that I can help you with." Isabelle hooked her arm in Kurt's and drew him forward. "Kurt happens to be exactly the same size and coloring as Etienne." She smiled wryly. "With only half the ego."

Kurt's eyes widened in disbelief. "I'm going to be in a Vogue photo shoot?"

Marcel looked him over with a critical eye. "I suppose he'll do. Thank God, it's only a concept shoot."

"No." Dave was adamant, even as he watched the excitement drain from Kurt's face. He uncrossed his arms, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from the disappointment in those glasz colored eyes. "It's not safe."

"Amateurs." Marcel muttered yet again.

"What seems to be the problem, David?" Isabelle asked, determined to diffuse the situation and soothe any ruffled feathers.

"Genius here wants to put a rope around the model's neck."

"_Across_ not around," Marcel corrected impatiently.

"And-?" Isabelle encouraged David to explain.

"The model's going to be suspended. The tension on the rope could choke him. Or worse, break his neck when he's lifted up."

"Well," Isabelle said smoothly, "I think we can all agree that's definitely not the look Vogue is going for."

**~:~**

"So, " Kurt hooked his arm through David's as they walked to the dressing area, "come here often, big boy?"

"What?" David's pulse quickened, mind racing to come up with a plausible reason for what he would be doing a photo shoot at a bdsm club. Anything but the truth. That he was a regular at The Hanging Gardens.

"You could have told me, you know." Kurt admonished, adding to David's fear that Gus or Marcel had already told Kurt about his background with the club. "Although," Kurt mused, "I suppose if I'd known you were on a photo shoot for Vogue, I would have been texting you non-stop for details."

"Gus brought me in last minute."

Kurt paused, eyeing David thoughtfully. "I was wondering about that, David." He looked pointedly around the club then chuckled. "What's a nice boy like you doing in a place like this?"

"Boy Scouts." David licked his lips, hoping Kurt would believe his lie. He added a little shrug of his shoulders, playing off Kurt's question as if it was nothing. "Gus needed someone who was good at knots and, well, I learned in Boy Scouts."

Kurt doubled over, laughing. "Oh, my God!" He winked suggestively at David. "If I'd known scouting offered such interesting real world applications, I might have joined."

Dave smiled, relieved that his secret was, for now, still safe.

**~:~**

"You ready?"

"I think so." Kurt stepped out dressed in black slacks and a long sleeved white shirt.

The temptation and opportunity were too much to resist. David reached over and slowly unbuttoned Kurt's collar. Then unfastened the second button as well.

"David?"

David tore his gaze away from the pale, bared vee of Kurt's throat to meet his eyes. "The ropes create tension on the shirt. I don't want the collar pulling against your neck."

"Oh. Right." Kurt's eyes warmed. "Thank you, David. And I promise, I won't do anything that you consider unsafe." He grinned. "No matter how much of a hissy fit Marcel throws."

**~:~**

_Kurt rushed home, expecting to hit the shower and jerk off to thoughts of Adam. But when the first burst of hot water sprayed across his bare skin, it was David's touch that came to mind. The fresh memory of wide, warm palms skimming teasingly down his torso had Kurt hard in seconds. He brushed the back of his fingers lightly along his dick. The same way David's knuckles had accidentally grazed him._

_Kurt bit his lip. God, what if those accidental touches hadn't been so innocent after all? He remembered the glimpse of David's eyes as he knotted the rope over his thighs; that smoldering gaze deepening from light café au lait to deep olive. At the time, Kurt had dismissed the heated look as lingering anger from David's confrontation with Marcel. But what if there had been something else stirring in those depths?_

_He switched the shower head to pulse and let the hard, steaming jets of water massage the soreness from his shoulders. Kurt giggled, enjoying the idea of replaying the photo shoot as a fantasy where David knew exactly how every touch, every brush, every not so subtle ghosting of hands over skin licked across Kurt's body in little sparks of desire._

_He shut off the water. He reached for the bottle of almond oil he had brought with him, poured a generous amount in his hand, then stroked the warm oil up and down his shaft, sliding his hand down to cup his balls in a slick palm and then a squeezing caress back along his cock._

**~:~**

Dr. Kahlo watched his client pace across his office, the young man's nervous excitement almost palpable as he walked off his excess energy. In nearly a year of treating David, it was the most animated he had ever seen him. Even when he finally sat down, it was on the edge of his seat, still leaning forward and fully engaged with his therapist.

"He liked it." Wonder colored David's voice, shading it with incredulity and hope. "I tied him up and he liked it. He was smiling at me." Dave jumped up again, raking a hand through his hair as he huffed out a nervous laugh. "And-and I was careful. Really careful not to hurt him." Dr. Kahlo gestured to the chair. David plopped back down. A tentative smile flickered across his lips. "He liked it-fuck-this changes everything!"

"David, isn't it possible-no, wait, hear me out." He held a hand up to stop Dave when he started to interrupt. "Isn't it possible that you're projecting your desires onto Kurt?"

"What? No! No, I didn't make this up. I know what I saw. Kurt was enjoying himself."

**~:~**

_Kurt scanned the shower stall through half-lidded eyes. Rachel's loofah band hung in the corner. He wondered if the rough surface could mimic the rope David had used to tie him up. Rachel would kill him. If, he thought to himself, she ever found out. He reached for the loofah, reasoning that there was no way she would ever know. Especially if he replaced it before she and Santana returned from Lima._

_He spread more oil over body before slipping his arms through the straps of the loofah band and pulling it up to his chest. He moaned, low and throaty as the rough texture scraped pleasantly over his stiff nipples. _

**~:~**

"I'm not questioning that Kurt's pleasure was genuine, David, I'm suggesting that validating your actions as the source of that pleasure may be an illusion-a projection of what you want to be real rather than what is actually real."

David's shoulders slumped and he sank back into the chair. He thought of Kurt's eyes, bright and eager as he bound his arms and legs. The little thrills that went through his own body as he tightened each knot that held Kurt fast, unable to escape. "He was happy," David countered weakly.

"He was about to model in his first photo shoot for a national magazine wearing haute couture designer clothes. Isn't it more probable that's what he was really excited about?" Dr. Kahlo picked up his Slinky and let it fall from one hand to the other in a soothing rhythm. "Especially since Kurt had no idea what you were really thinking when you tied him up. Did he?"

Dave blushed and looked away, embarrassed. "No."

**~:~ **

_Kurt reached for his suction cup dildo to mount to the tile wall and let out a string of expletives when he realized he had left it and his favorite nubby butt plug in his room. He spied Santana's bath brush. The one with the thick, beaded handle. The momentary twinge of guilt he felt didn't stop him from reaching for it. He coated each of the graduated wooden beads generously with the almond oil then, bracing himself, slid the brush between his nether cheeks. _

_Kurt's eyes drifted shut. He imagined he was back at The Hanging Gardens, tied up and bent over an oxblood leather couch while David teasingly circled the head of his well lubed cock against his ass. The loofah band scraped a pleasant ache against his chest, drawing tighter as he leaned over and spread his legs. He rolled the tip of the first bead across his hole, slowly working it in and around to stretch the opening._

**~:~**

"David," Dr. Kahlo repeated himself when Dave continued to sit, eyes closed, hands balled up into tight little fists pressed against his thighs, unresponsive. "All I'm saying is returning to in patient therapy is one of the options you should be considering. You made tremendous progress during your first hospitalization." He continued to drop the Slinky mindlessly from one hand to the other and back again. "There's no shame in going back. Sometimes regression is part of the process, David."

Dr. Kahlo glanced at his clock. Their session was almost over and they hadn't had progressed as he hoped they would have by this point. He tried one more tactic. "You've thought about doing things to Kurt. You've started doing some of those things with another young man. David, think. At what point do you realize you need more help? Before or after you leave someone lying on the floor seriously injured or worse?"

David looked up, startled, eyes bright with sudden fear. "I wouldn't hurt Kurt."

"You did before. Often. And you still have inappropriate thoughts of putting your hands on him."

"Yeah, okay, I'll think about the hospital," David conceded defeatedly.

Dr. Kahlo suppressed a triumphant smile as he stood and opened the door the waiting room. "Good, we'll discuss it more next week."

**~:~ **

_"…David…fuck…oh, God…please don't stop…please…fuck!..."_

_Kurt pleaded, whimpering as he squeezed and stroked his dick with one well-oiled hand while the other pushed the bath brush harder into his ass. His face pressed against the cool tile of the shower, one cheek resting on the towel rack to keep from falling over as he spread his legs until his calves and thighs ached with a pleasant burn. It was worth it. Oh, dear God was it worth it as those wooden beads penetrated deep and rubbed against the sweet spot of his prostate. _

_He gripped his cock harder. But in his fantasy, it was David's fingers clenched tight around him, palm moving up and over to circle his head before engulfing his shaft again and pumping in teasingly slow, drawn out strokes or quick bursts of friction that left Kurt begging for release._

_"…God, David, fuck me…"_

_He finally found a rocking rhythm between his two hands that satisfied as his ass bucked against the wooden beads, drawing them in; then his hips rolled forward so he could jerk his dick off with his other hand. A familiar tension coiled in his balls waiting to be sprung. So close._

_"…harder…"_

_He concentrated on David's face. Those hazel green eyes. The smart ass grin. Then his shoulders. Biceps. He quickened his pace, body trembling, on edge. _

_"…ughn…"_

_David's cock…hard…thick…wetly slapping skin against skin. _

_"…David…"_

_In balls deep. Pulling out. Sliding back in. Each stroke hitting the sweet spot. Kurt spasmed. The loofah band chafed across already sensitive nipples and the remembered sensation of being bound, of David's hands on his body, knots pressing into skin ignited a burst of colors behind his eyes as his body shuddered and pushed over into the oblivion of orgasm. _

**~:~**

"Hey, Kurt, nice plie."

Kurt stiffened as Brody's faux English accent interrupted his warm-up at the barre. Still, his good mood from last night's marathon fapping session had carried over to today and he wasn't about to let Brody ruin it. He turned, eyes immediately going to the pronounced hickey in the curve of Brody's neck. There were teeth imprints in the skin.

"Hey, Brody, nice skank bite. One of your clients get out of line?"

Brody smirked. Hummel made this set up too easy. "You should know. Whatever you did to your boy left him a hot fucking mess. And not in the good way."

Kurt frowned, then chose to dismissively turn his back on Brody and continued his plies. "Adam is in England. And Blaine…is free to do whoever he wants."

Brody positioned himself on the other side of the barre, just in front of Kurt, before stripping off his sweatshirt. As Brody planned, Kurt's gaze went directly to the dark, finger shaped splotches that trailed across his biceps. He let Kurt have an eyeful before looking over his shoulder to comment, "Adam and Blaine might be losers, but it's Karofsky that's a real piece of work, huh?"

Kurt's eyes flicked to Brody's then back to the bruises. He shook his head in disbelief, willing it not to be true even though he couldn't deny his own history of bruised shoulders.

**~:~**

David took a long, slow pull of his beer, his second of the night, with the promise of a third and quite possibly a fourth to push him beyond a pleasant, relaxed buzz to drunk enough to sleep without dreams. He eyed the proofs from Kurt's photo shoot fanned across his lap. Dreams? More like nightmares. He was beginning to feel a lot less grateful to Gus for giving him the extras. He planned to give them to Kurt. Most of them, anyway. He scooped them into a rough pile and tossed them towards the coffee table. All except one. His favorite.

Marcel's concept was a magician suspended by colorful scarves and Kurt carried it off beautifully. Dave smiled at the photo. A rope harness actually supported Kurt's weight. But Dave had rigged it to be nearly invisible before weaving and knotting the scarves in to complete the illusion.

For one photo, the one David held admiringly in his hand, Kurt suggested hanging upside down above a tank of water. The pose itself wasn't so great. But the look on Kurt's face transformed the shot from so-so to stunning. The direct gaze from those brilliant blue eyes demanded attention. And the confident, slightly challenging smirk promised you didn't want to miss whatever magic trick this magician was getting ready to perform.

Dave set his beer down. His eyes strayed over Kurt's body as his free hand unsnapped his jeans. His fingers trembled on the zipper. He licked his lips. Dr. Kahlo would probably think this was wrong. Unhealthy. Fuck that. He had stayed away from his call boy for days. He said he'd think about checking back into the hospital. Those were the only compromises he was willing to make at the moment. He wasn't a fucking saint.

And the Kurt gazing back at him from that photo wasn't a saint, either. Not with those sexy eyes and "fuck me" lips.

David groaned as he pushed his zipper down, took himself in hand and imagined Kurt's mouth sucking his dick. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He growled softly, frustrated. Another series of quick, insistent knocks. Dave zipped up, wiped his hands on his jeans and yanked the door open.

"Hi! Mind if I come in?" Kurt blurted out, pushing one of the bags he carried into Dave's hands as he walked past and found an empty chair to hold the other bag he carried. "I was out shopping and then I had a craving for Thai food and before I knew it, I was in your neighborhood-et voila!" Kurt nodded at the bag David held. "There's a lemongrass chicken with your name on it." He glanced at the two beers on the coffee table. "You haven't eaten yet have you?" Before Dave could answer, Kurt spotted the photos of himself and immediately scooped them up with a delighted squeal.

David's chest tightened with emotion. Seeing Kurt's face brighten, happy, made him wish for more moments like this. "Gus sent over some extras. Thought you might want 'em."

Kurt laughed. "I _might _want them? Really, David, do you know me at all?" He reached for the photo on the couch.

"Not that one." Dave didn't mean to interrupt so quickly and he hoped Kurt didn't notice. "I kinda wanted to keep that one."

"Oh, of course, for your portfolio."

"Right." Dave didn't give a fuck about having a portfolio but it was as good an excuse as any to convince Kurt to carefully place the last photo back on the table.

"I'm starving!" Kurt beamed as he passed Dave and headed for the kitchen. "Let's eat." Kurt focused on keeping his chatter light and easygoing. Brody's bruises still weighed on his conscience and he was determined to confront David about the situation and put an end to it. "Got an extra beer?"

David, busy taking the food out of the bag and setting it on the table, glanced up, surprised. Kurt never drank beer. "Seriously?"

"I've seen your fridge, David," Kurt teased, "And given the choice between beer and Gatorade, I'll go with beer." Kurt opened a cabinet to get plates. "If you don't mind?"

"I've got Diet Coke."

"Really?"

Dave blushed. "Yeah, well, you've kinda been coming over more often. Thought maybe I should keep a few cans on hand. Just in case."

"Diet Coke would be wonderful." Kurt took the time to study David while his back was turned, getting the soda and ice from the refrigerator. It was hard to reconcile the memory of the McKinley bully from his past, an angry teenager who had no qualms leaving marks on another person, with the considerate man before him who had thoughtfully stocked Kurt's favorite drink.

"Brody's a liar." Kurt blurted the words before he could stop himself. He hadn't meant to say them out loud when the thought crossed his mind.

David froze, tension knotting his shoulders. "Who's Brody?"

_It doesn't matter._ The words were there, right on the tip of Kurt's tongue to say. Three little words to dismiss any negativity and the promise of an enjoyable dinner and pleasant evening could be fulfilled.

But it did matter.

"He's a student at NYADA. He also makes extra money on the side. As an escort." Kurt's heart sank at the look of hurt and betrayal that crossed Dave's face. The bright fear in those hazel eyes. And, worse, the way he ducked his head, ashamed. It was the same look he had seen when Blaine confronted Dave in the middle of a McKinley stairway, ready to broadcast the terrified teen's fears in a public, misguided attempt to help. "David, I'm not judging you."

Kurt reached for him but it was too late. His fingers slipped across flannel covered biceps for a split second before Dave bolted, desperate to reach the front door. The door chain slowed him down just long enough for Kurt to catch up. "David." Kurt wrapped his arms around Dave's waist, pressed his cheek against his shoulders. "David, stop." When his hand scrabbled furtively to unlatch the chain yet again, Kurt settled his hand firmly over his. He spoke slowly, emphatically. "I am _not_ judging you. I want to help." He coaxed David away from the door, turning him around so they were face to face. "I want to understand what's going on with you."

David raked a hand through his hair. "I'm a monster." He shook his head, unable to meet Kurt's eyes. He huffed out a self-deprecating laugh. "Dr. Kahlo's right. If you knew what I was thinking at the photo shoot…"

Kurt wondered if his own thoughts about being tied up matched David's. "Did you like tying me up? The idea of me held captive? Helpless?"

"…yes…" David shuddered, undone by revealing the secret admission he never want Kurt to hear.

Kurt swallowed down his fear and asked because he needed to know, had to understand who David was now. "Why?"

"Because then you wouldn't run away and…" He faltered, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, looking young and vulnerable. Defeated. "…and I'd have a chance to make you feel good. Wanted."

Kurt puzzled through the words, brow creased as he considered what David said and what he meant. "What if I didn't run?"

"You would." Dave met Kurt's eyes, silently willing him to understand his frustration and longing. He planted his palms against the wall on either side of Kurt, penning him in. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, throaty warning, breath ghosting over his lips. "You should." Hazel green eyes glittered cat-like and unpredictable as they roamed possessively over Kurt's body. Kurt's pulse quickened at the honest, undeniable desire in Dave's gaze. David couldn't resist nuzzling into the warm, inviting curve of Kurt's neck. "Run."

"David, no." Kurt tried to squirm free but Dave grabbed his wrists and the struggle threw them both off balance to the floor. Dave shimmied Kurt's shirt over his head, effectively trapping his arms before kissing a trail down Kurt's bared torso. Kurt wriggled as Dave's stubble bristled across his skin. He succeeded in yanking his shirt off and freeing his hands. Dave, mistaking the movement for consent, quickly unfastened Kurt's jeans and began pulling them down. "Stop!" Kurt fisted his hands in Dave's hair and tugged hard. Dave gasped. He palmed Kurt's cock, teasingly close to his lips. "…please…" Even to Kurt, his last, breathy plea sounded encouraging instead of an attempt to stop.

Dave tongued his shaft; one long, slow, teasing stroke before sucking Kurt's head into his mouth.

"David…" Kurt tried to focus through the haze of desire. "…you have to stop."

"Are you sure?"

"I-" Kurt didn't mean to hesitate. He meant to put a stop to this. Now. Before things went any farther. But Dave's expression distracted him; the intimacy and possessiveness in those hazel eyes fastened on his gave him pause. He started to speak up, to say he was sure but it was too late. Dave's mouth claimed him once more. Mindlessly, Kurt's hands tightened on Dave's shoulders, holding him fast as those tongue and lips engulfed him and sent him over the edge, bucking into Dave's mouth until he came.

"Get off me."

Dave continued short, lapping strokes along Kurt's shaft, licking up the last of the cum. Kurt struck his fists against David's shoulders.

"Get. Off!"

Stunned, David rocked back on his heels, genuinely confused by Kurt's reaction. "Kurt?"

Kurt rolled onto his side. "I can't look at you right now."

"You wanted this…didn't you?" David reached for him but Kurt smacked his hand away. David stood and slowly backed away. Dr. Kahlo's words rushed back to him, playing over and over in his head like a Greek chorus warning of impending disaster. Kurt lay curled on the floor, crying. David's breath hitched in his throat. He'd hurt Kurt again. "Oh, God…oh…God…fuck!" He ran out, smashing his fist through the wall before he left.

**~:~**

Moments later, Kurt realized he had kicked Dave out of his own apartment. He lay on the floor, eyes closed, berating himself for every misstep he had taken tonight. He had told David to stop. But had he really wanted him to? Yes. Kurt opened his eyes. At first. Later, he grudgingly admitted, things had been less…certain. Confusing.

Ever since that first startling kiss in the locker room, there had always been a part of Kurt that wondered about what might have been with David. Bitterly, Kurt remembered Valentine's Week. The gorilla gram. The little stuffed monkey he had brought with him to New York. The terribly cheesy yet adorable cards still in his closet in Lima. His fingers curled into fists. Why couldn't David have shown that side of him before? Before he had met Blaine.

Kurt traced a finger over his swollen lips, trying to remember when David had kissed him, still too blissed out from his orgasm to move. Why couldn't David have been his first?

But David wasn't his first, wasn't even his current boyfriend. Kurt couldn't honestly say he regretted what he had just experienced, but he definitely regretted the circumstances. He sighed, frustrated. "Dave Karofsky" and "complicated" always seemed interchangeable in his life.

"Police!"

Kurt startled at the unfamiliar voice.

He scrambled to pull his shirt on and his pants up but it was too late. In seconds, a man he vaguely recognized as Dave's therapist was on one side, a paramedic on the other and two police officers were checking the rest of the apartment just behind them. Embarrassed, Kurt finished zipping up his pants. "What's going on?"

"We received a report of a sexual assault," one of the police officers answered.

Dr. Kahlo nodded in confirmation. "David called me and told me what happened."

Kurt's jaw tightened. "And you called the police?"

"David," Dr. Kahlo stressed carefully, "called 911 to get an ambulance for you. When the police arrived, he turned himself in. For sexual assault."

Kurt bit back a string of expletives running through his mind. _David. _Irritated, he batted the paramedic away and sat up to finish pulling his shirt on. Kurt wasn't sure if he could fix this but he had to try. "It was consensual."

Dr. Kahlo studied Kurt's face. "Kurt, if David forced you-"

"He didn't," Kurt said more firmly. "Dr.-"

"Kahlo."

"I'm fine, really."

Dr. Kahlo glanced quickly over Kurt's body. "No injuries?"

"No." A questioning look passed between the paramedics and the officers. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," Kurt added sheepishly. One of the officers dug into his pocket and handed Kurt a card with a domestic violence hotline number on it. Guilt added to his already considerable discomfort. "Is David all right?"

"You worry about yourself." One of the officers answered gruffly. "We'll take care of David."

The first stirrings of panic fluttered in Kurt's chest. "He's free to go, right?" When no one answered immediately, Kurt pushed to his feet. "Where is he?"

One of the officers blocked Kurt's way, on hand resting on his holster, the other held up in warning. "Right now he's in custody until we figure out what's going on here."

Kurt looked to Dr. Kahlo for help. "Please, you can't let them take David to jail. Not for this." Kurt held his gaze. "He didn't do anything I didn't want him to do." Kurt wasn't sure he believed that but he put everything he had into convincing the officers it was the truth.

Apparently, it worked. After a brief conversation between themselves and then with the paramedics, the gruff officer seemed willing to release David. "He's under your care, Dr. Kahlo?"

"Yes."

"Is violent?"

"No."

"Is he a danger to himself?"

"I don't believe so but I'd like to assess him tonight and follow up by phone tomorrow. He's scheduled for his regular appointment in two days."

"So you'll let David go?" Kurt persisted.

"If Dr. Kahlo clears him and my sergeant agrees, yeah, we'll let him go." The officer tapped the domestic violence card Kurt still held. "You hold on to that."

Kurt nodded, realizing that the officer was only trying to protect him. After the officers and paramedics left, Kurt started to follow Dr. Kahlo downstairs, anxious to see David and reassure him that he wasn't hurt. But the doctor convinced Kurt that David was too distraught over what happened to see him. Grudgingly, Kurt accepted his advice. He agreed to wait and see David at his next session in Dr. Kahlo's office, in a calmer, more controlled environment. In the meantime, there was someone else Kurt wanted to talk to.

**~:~**

"I'm paying for your time, Brody, not your body."

Brody smirked, splaying his legs to show off his physique. "Your loss."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Doubtful. I want to know about your-interactions-with David."

"You know I can't talk about my clients."

"I'll pay double your usual fee."

"Triple."

Kurt's face turned stony. "Double-and I won't tell NYADA what you've been doing on the side."

"You don't have the balls, Hummel."

"I thought you were a savvy businessman but insulting me? Stupid move." Kurt shouldered his satchel and stood to leave. "This could have been the easiest money you've ever made and you blew it."

"You're not gonna leave. You want this info too badly."

Kurt looked over his shoulder, smiling condescendingly. "There's a difference between want and need, Brody." I don't _need_-" he paused to give Brody's body a scathing once over, "-anything you have to offer."

He walked out, closing the door firmly behind him. Within seconds, he heard the door open and Brody calling out for him to come back. Kurt took a few more steps before stopping, then slowly turned on his heel. He eyed Brody expectantly. "I don't have all day, what do you want?"

"Double my fee, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, yeah, I'll talk just-just not out here."

Kurt smiled, pleased that his gamble had paid off. "Of course not." He strolled back into the hotel room, set his satchel on the floor and returned to his seat as if he had all the time in the world.

**~:~**

"He had this locker room fantasy."

"I would imagine locker room fantasies would be a common theme for jocks."

"I know, right? But not this one. Not by a long shot." Brody laughed. "He wanted me to call him-get this-he wanted me to call him 'hamhock.'"

_Hamhock._ Kurt's jaw tightened. He knew then exactly what "fantasy" David had wanted to reenact. Was he reliving his guilt? Or had he found a happier resolution to that scene through roleplaying with Brody? Kurt hoped it was the latter. The thought of David taking out his anger and frustration on a stranger bothered Kurt. But the idea that he might be using Brody to safely work out his feelings impressed him. It took courage to face one's fears. Once again, David managed to both surprise and confuse him.

_David fidgeted with the snaps on his old McKinley letterman jacket, anxiously waiting for the buzz at his door that was due any minute now. What was he thinking? What would Dr. Kahlo think? He pulled five crisp $20 bills from his pocket and counted them. Again. He hoped it was enough. Maybe it wasn't too late to call this off. Maybe when the guy showed up, Dave could pay him a cancellation fee and that would be the end of it. He'd never have to think about this again._

_Except he would. Ever since he had reconnected with Kurt several months ago, he couldn't stop thinking about it. If he didn't go through with this now, he would always wonder, could he have handled things with Kurt better?_

_The buzzer interrupted his thoughts. Immediately, Dave started thinking of what to say to get out of this even as he unlocked and opened the door. He froze._

_Brody was wearing the same chandelier shirt Kurt had worn three years ago._

_The black jacket and jeans were different but that shirt-he would never forget that shirt. Dave swallowed against the sudden tightness in his throat. When he had set up this fantasy, he never imagined Brody would come through this accurately. _

_"Can we not do this in the hall?" Brody's hand closed over Dave's. Dave looked down at the contact, only just realizing he was standing there, in the open for anyone to see, with a fistful of cash awkwardly thrust towards Brody._

_Sheepishly, David backed into his apartment. Not that he had much choice really. Brody stepped forward and it was either back up or have the other man pressed up against him. _

_"Listen, I'm not sure I-"_

_Brody ignored him, making a point of closing the door behind him and locking it. He eyed the wad of cash still in Dave's hand. This guy was too good to be true. He could probably take all of it and his client would never know how much he had overpaid. Hell, judging from his nervousness, he'd probably be willing to give him all of it just to get Brody to leave. It wasn't the first time someone had gotten cold feet._

_On the other hand, if he played the honesty card, he just might be able to cultivate this guy into a regular. He was young, healthy, broad shoulders. If things worked out, Brody wouldn't mind servicing him again. He plucked two 20's from Dave's hand and shoved them in his pocket._

_"Is-is that enough?"_

_Brody flashed a reassuring smile. "For now."_

_**~:~**_

"The second time, you let him kiss you?"

"That's what he wanted."

"What was it like? Was he angry?"

Brody fell silent, replaying the moment in his mind. "Desperate." His expression lost some of its detachment. "Like he was afraid I would run. Dude had already paid me and he still acted like-"

"Like he would lose you?" Kurt finished softly, remembering all too well how his own locker room scene with David had played out. "What happened next?"

"He changed. Relaxed. It's like that second kiss made him more confident. Made him realize that I wasn't going anywhere."

"And-?"

"What do you want me to say, Hummel? We fucked, okay? It's what I do. He was happy and I left with bruised shoulders and an appointment to come back the next week. He's been a regular ever since."

_He was happy. _Kurt thought about the pleased, shy smile on David's face when he had revealed himself as the gorilla that long ago Valentine's Day in Breadstix. Kurt bit his lip. Just for a moment, he imagined David flushed and smiling after sex and felt his own face grow warm. "But he hurt you."

Brody rolled his eyes. "If he had wanted to hurt me, he could have. Besides-" he smirked, "-I kinda liked it."

"Eww."

Brody snorted. "He gets off on marking me, so what?"

"Like a possession."

"Like a prized possession." Brody stiffened at Kurt's expression of disgust. "What? You're gonna sit there and tell me you weren't proud as fuck of your first hickey? Seriously?"

Kurt shifted, uncomfortable that Brody's point was valid.

**~:~**

Reluctantly, a few days later, Dave arrived at Dr. Kahlo's for his weekly session. As soon as he entered the reception area, Kurt stood to greet him. Dave faltered, involuntarily taking a step back, one hand reaching behind to catch the door that hadn't quite yet closed, ready to bolt. "What the hell is this?"

"This is me not running." Kurt smiled, the genuine warmth behind the gesture deepening the blue of his eyes. He laid a hand on David's arm. "Maybe it's time you stopped running, too."

**Several weeks later:**

Kurt flexed, testing the ropes that crisscrossed his torso, skimmed teasingly along his cock then wrapped around to bind his thighs to his calves as he kneeled on the bed. "You're getting good at this," he murmured approvingly.

Dave tugged on the bonds. "Not too tight then?"

"Mm, no, it feels wonderful!" Kurt shivered as David's hands danced across his back weaving and knotting the rope in a new herringbone pattern they had both wanted to try.

_At the last session with Dr. Kahlo, Kurt had decided after fifteen minutes that the therapist could take his archaic beliefs and go fuck himself. Especially when Kurt mentioned that he was amenable to safely exploring David's interest in bondage and the doctor had promptly suggested that Kurt, too, should be in intensive therapy._

_Kurt had slid his hand over David's thigh, mentioned a lingerie store two blocks away and not so innocently asked if he had ever used silk hose for bondage. They left Dr. Kahlo's hand in hand and never looked back. _

"And-done."

Kurt could see Dave's satisfied smile in the mirror. He tried to twist around to catch a glimpse of his back but failed. Dave's bondage held fast. Kurt groaned as the rope rubbed a pleasant burn against his hard on. "Take a picture, I want to see!" he commanded.

Dave rested his palms on Kurt's shoulders. "You know, babe, I don't think you're quite getting the _submissive_ aspect of bdsm."

Kurt made a face. "Maybe I just like to top from the bottom."

Dave quirked an eyebrow, amused. "Where did you learn that?"

Kurt looked smug. "You're not the only one who's picked up a thing or two at The Hanging Gardens."

"Topping from the bottom isn't the scene we agreed on." Dave cupped Kurt's chin firmly. "And you forgot to address me as 'Sir'. I think you've earned your first punishment."

"You wouldn't!"

"Challenging me? Two punishments. Wanna try for three?"

"No…Sir."

Dave grinned as he gave Kurt a quick peck on the lips. "Good boy." He walked over to the dresser, got his cell phone and snapped several photos of Kurt, trussed up and helpless. "Punishment number one-" Dave set his phone back on the dresser. "-you'll see the photos when I decide to send them to you."

Kurt whined softly. Part of the pleasure of being tied up was getting to see the results.

"Punishment number two-" Dave scooted a chair to the edge of the bed and sat down, plopping his feet onto the mattress so that only his boots touched Kurt's bare thigh. "-close your eyes and think about how bad you've been while I decide on your second punishment."

Kurt huffed out a frustrated sigh but did as told. With his eyes closed, he began to experience a sense of calm and protection. The leather of Dave's boot brushed against his skin and seemed magnified in its softness. The rope pressed into him, holding fast and comforting him, reminding him with each pleasurable abrasion that David cared for him. Would take care of him. He felt the handle of the bandage scissors tied to his hip just in case he needed to free himself. He smiled at David's precautions. He was s_afe._

The mattress dipped as Dave removed his foot. Kurt listened, puzzled, as footsteps moved from the bed to the closet and back again. Shadows passed over his face. He didn't need the scent of Dave's soap and shampoo to sense he was close. Standing, he thought, right by him. More movement.

"Lay back."

Kurt did as ordered, dropping back in a motion that painfully stretched his bound arms tighter against his body and left his thighs splayed obscenely. He sank into a thick fur blanket. Kurt gasped. The muscle burn protesting his unnatural position contrasted with the sinful decadence of the blanket created a disconnect in his mind. He felt like he was floating.

Dave's throat tightened as he watched Kurt's face, relaxed and blissful. Totally trusting. Completely willing to put himself under Dave's protection. Already the rope was leaving welts on Kurt's skin. And Dave couldn't help enjoying the fact that Kurt would bear those marks-his marks, he though possessively-for several hours. He grabbed his phone and snapped two more pictures. Kurt squirmed against the mattress with a contented sigh. Dave crawled onto the bed with him.

"Kurt?"

"…mm…"

"You remember your safe words?"

"Red for stop. Yellow for slow down. Green-" Kurt opened his eyes, an impish smile playing across his lips. "-go for it."

"Good boy." David rewarded him with a quick kiss. "And now, for your second punishment." He opened the mini fridge next to the bed and pulled out a take-out container clearly marked "Babylon". Kurt's eyes widened. David chuckled knowing how much this would torment Kurt. "Tiramisu." He took a big mouthful. "Mmm…fuck…this might be better than sex."

"…bitch…"

"What was that?" Dave pressed the tines of his fork into the dessert, barely coating it. "You do want a third punishment?" He smirked. "Fine by me." He smeared the fork on the tip of Kurt's nose, teasingly out of reach of his tongue. "What? Something else you wanna say?"

"No…Sir." Kurt gritted out, eyeing the tiramisu and hoping if he behaved David might let him have a least one bite. "Mm." Kurt winced, trying to ignore the tingling in his arms. He didn't want to ruin the moment but he also knew David would be upset if he didn't speak up and let him know he was uncomfortable. "Red."

Immediately, David set the tiramisu aside, any trace of teasing gone. "What's wrong?"

"My arm's falling asleep." Dave used his own set of bandage scissors to smoothly cut through Kurt's bonds, freeing him in moments. He could have taken the time to untie the knots and save the rope for reuse, but when it came to Kurt, David wasn't taking any chances. Kurt stretched, rubbing the circulation back in his limbs. "I'm sorry. I really wanted-"

David cut him off with a long, lingering kiss. "Good boy." His palms roamed over Kurt's body, rubbing quick little circles. "You were perfect."

"But I couldn't even last-"

Dave grabbed the tiramisu, scooped up a generous bite and pressed it to Kurt's eager lips. After he swallowed, Dave kissed him again. "Perfect."

When they had first started experimenting, he had been worried about hurting Kurt. But Kurt understood that their bondage play was a partnership about trust and they both had responsibilities to each other. Kurt always communicated his needs to David. And David always respected his boundaries.

Kurt flopped back on the bed, murmuring his approval of Babylon's tiramisu. David dipped his finger in the dessert, spread it over Kurt's nipple and followed with his tongue. Kurt moaned, fingers tightening in Dave's hair to hold him fast. "Mmm…green." David moved to the other nipple, tongue lapping roughly over the stiff peak. "Definitely green."

He moved down Kurt's body, dabbing tiramisu in random spots along his skin then following with his mouth, his lips, his tongue, the scrape of teeth ghosting just behind his ear. His hand moved down to the nubby butt plug he had told Kurt to put in. He slowly pulled it out, then pushed back in. Kurt's hips rolled up to meet him. "Easy, babe. Grab the headboard. Keep your hands there." David's own cock twitched as Kurt obeyed. "Spread your legs." Kurt did as told, gazing down his body with hungry eyes, eager for David's next move.

David's eyes locked on his as he drew Kurt's dick in his mouth, hand slowly pumping the butt plug in and out as he sucked his head. Kurt cried out, fisting the headboard as David's lips tightened around him. He closed his eyes.

"Fuck, David…"

Dave grinned. He loved being the one to take Kurt apart, to draw those noises from him, to have him bucking against his mouth, possessively fucking him as much as David had ever wanted to claim him. Kurt's arms trembled, thudding the headboard against the wall as he began to climax.

"Green…green…oh, my…green, emerald, mint, jade, moss, clover, lime, pine, char-char-char-ugh-treuse!"

THE END


End file.
